


A Slow and Gentle Pressure

by kho



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Depression, Gen, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Slash, Stress Relief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-23 13:57:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8330419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kho/pseuds/kho
Summary: NOTE:  Added a chapter 2 conclusion because I apparently wasn't done smoothing Steve's rough edges.  Complete now. (set general season 7)  “I’m so tired of this look, babe,” Danny’s saying quietly, voice soft and barely audible.  Almost a whisper, but for the rumble behind it.  “This pinched, constant headache, stressed look on you.  It’s taking years off my life.  It’s aneurysm face and constipated face and I’m gonna kill a motherfucker face all rolled into one Miserable McGarrett face, and I’m so tired of looking at it.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Brought to you by a [conversation I was having on tumblr](http://lovethesnark.tumblr.com/post/152051542534/steve-is-making-me-so-sad-he-has-happy-moments) earlier today about Steve's general outlook in season 7.

Danny walks up to him and Steve gives him a look. “What?”  Danny doesn’t say anything, just looks up at him, chewing on his bottom lip.  Steve breathes out.  “What, Danny?”  

Danny still doesn’t say anything, but he takes Steve’s elbow and turns him away from the sink where he’s been washing dishes.  He reaches up and frames Steve’s face with his hands, pulling him down.  Steve thinks for a moment he’s about to be kissed and he freezes, caught between wanting it so bad and being terrified of taking that last step.  

“Relax, will ya,” Danny says.

Steve looks at him harder and sees that Danny’s not looking at his eyes, he’s looking just above them.  With his fingers on Steve’s temple his thumbs come to press in the center of his forehead, between his eyebrows.  “Danny, what the hell.”

“Shh,” Danny says, and steps closer.  “Close your eyes.”

Steve rolls his eyes instead.  “Danny.”

“Do you trust me or not,” Danny snaps, and now he’s looking into Steve’s eyes.  Steve looks back and sees irritation, but more than that he sees worry and concern.  “Just shut up and close your eyes.”

Steve leans back against the line of cabinets, crosses his arms, and closes his eyes.  Danny’s thumbs slowly slide the length of his eyebrows, and it only makes Steve’s eyebrows punch together harder.  Danny repeats the motion again, breath ghosting over Steve’s mouth and nose.  The third time he does it Steve relaxes, allows Danny to smooth out the wrinkle above his nose.

“There,” Danny says, voice soft and quiet, and he does it again.

It feels nice.  It’s an odd feeling, and Steve can’t say anyone’s ever done it to him before, but it feels caring.  It feels nurturing, it feels like maybe something Danny would do for Grace when she has a headache.  Steve doesn’t have a headache though, and he’s about to tell Danny to knock it off when this time instead of smoothing his thumbs over Steve’s brow he makes small circular motions with his fingertips on both sides of Steve’s temple and that feels even better.  Steve feels his shoulders relax as he breathes out again.

“I’m so tired of this look, babe,” Danny’s saying quietly, voice soft and barely audible.  Almost a whisper, but for the rumble behind it.  “This pinched, constant headache, stressed look on you.  It’s taking years off my life.  It’s aneurysm face and constipated face and I’m gonna kill a motherfucker face all rolled into one Miserable McGarrett face, and I’m so tired of looking at it.”

“Wh--”

“Did I say talk, Steven,” Danny says, and when Steve takes a breath his crossed arms come up against Danny’s chest because that’s how close he’s standing.  “Would you do me a favor?  Huh?  Just this once, and just… do what I’m saying and not ask questions?”

Steve smiles slightly.  “Thought you said shut up.”

“Can you take a deep breathe?  Just take a deep breath and hold it for three full seconds before you let it out.”

Steve’s eyes open.  “Danny… what the hell are you--”

Danny shakes his head and frowns at him.  “Eyes closed.”

“Breathing, Danny?  Temple massages and breathing exercises?”

“For me,” Danny says, sounding tired.  “Please.  Please, Steve, just… do it for me?”

Steve sighs but does as instructed, closes his eyes again and takes a deep breath.  Danny’s hands leave his temples and he thinks they’re done but then he feels Danny’s fingers curling over his wrists, unfolding his arms and bringing them down to Steve’s sides and then sliding his hands up Steve’s arms until he reaches his shoulders.  Steve exhales.

“Breathe in again,” Danny says again.

Steve does as told and feels Danny’s fingers digging into his shoulders and he’s never felt a massage from the front before but Danny’s fingers sure as hell know what they’re doing.  He exhales to the count of four and then breathes in again through is nose as Danny slides his fingers over his shoulders and digs into his shoulder blades, dragging the tension out of him inch by slow inch and moving closer and closer to his neck.

“Danny,” he says, but this time it’s his voice that’s barely audible and Danny ignores him.

Strong hands up the sides of his neck, fingertips digging in and dragging back down, and repeat.  And repeat and repeat and repeat until Steve’s head is lolling forward to expose more of his neck to Danny’s touch.   Danny massages his neck until he feels like it’s rubber and can’t even hold up his head any longer and then his hands come back to up to Steve’s head, fingers sliding heavy but gentle over his brow and temple and then through his hair.  Smoothing.  Settling.

“Turn around,” Danny says and Steve does, without hesitation.

Steve moans when Danny’s thumbs dig into his spine, hands fanning out, spreading wide, sliding down in a hard press down the planes of his back, working into the dips and curves, pausing to work over knots.  Sometimes fingers and other times knuckles digging into muscles until Steve feels like years and years worth of tension have been bled out of him.

At some point it becomes more of a back rub than a massage but Steve can’t bring himself to stop him.  Just leans against the cabinets and feels his throat close off because he hasn’t felt like this in too long.  Too god damned long.

“You can’t go on like this, Steve,” Danny says, rubbing his fingers up Steve’s neck slow and with gentle pressure.  “It’s not good.  Tension like this.  This amount of stress.  You gotta find a release, babe.”

Fingers work up into his hair, massaging his scalp.

“You’re gonna give yourself an ulcer.  Heartattack.  Something.  Cancer.  They say stress can cause cancer.”

Smoothing his hands, palms flat, down Steve’s shoulders to his arms, repeating the process.

“Or maybe you can tell me what’s going on, huh,” Danny says softly, his hands slipping off Steve’s arms as he steps back.  “You know I’m always here when you need me.”

Steve opens his eyes and stares down at the dishes in his sink.  Reaches over to turn off the water.  

“Anytime.  I mean that, Steven.  At any time you can call me, I’ll come.  Middle of the day, middle of the night.  I’ll be here.”  

Steve’s hands tighten on the sink.  “I’m fine, Danny.”

“Sure,” Danny says, and Steve doesn’t have to turn to see the sardonic smirk on his face.  Can picture it perfectly.  “Totally fine.  Peachy keen.  Everything is a-okay.”

Steve turns and leans back against the sink again, still feeling loose and off kilter.  “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing,” Danny says, hooking his thumbs into his belt loops, leaning back against Steve’s island.  “Just want you to be happy.”

“I’m happy,” Steve says, and feels that wrinkle between his eyebrows pop right back up.  It’s like his own personal lie detector.  “I’m _fine_.”

Danny steps forward and frames Steve’s face once again with his hands, thumbs sliding over his cheeks.  “This is not a happy face, Steve.”  He rests a thumb on the side of Steve’s mouth.  “This isn’t happy.”  He points an index finger at Steve’s eyebrows.  “These aren’t happy.”  

“What do you want from me,” he asks, voice wavering as he feels panic closing in on him.

“What do you want from _me_ ,” Danny asks, meeting Steve’s eyes.  “What can I do to help you?”

“You can’t,” Steve says, closing his eyes because looking into Danny’s hurts too bad.  “You can’t help me.”

“Then maybe it’s time for you to see someone, babe,” Danny says, hands falling to his sides.  “Because you’re not okay, and I’m…  I’m at a loss, and all I want to do is make you happy but I can’t.”

“It’s not you Danny.  It’s me,” Steve says, shrugging.  “Maybe.  Maybe I don’t get happy.  Maybe that’s just something I don’t get.”

Danny shakes his head.  “Nah.  This is just the part that sucks, Steve.  I swear to God, you’re owed happy.”  

“Am I though,” Steve asks, searching Danny’s face.  

“Yeah,” Danny says, nodding.  “You’ll get your happy one day Steve.”

“Maybe I already have it,” Steve says quietly and Danny turns to go back into the den, making him pause.  “Maybe it’s been here all along and I’ve been too stupid to see it.”

“Maybe,” Danny says, not turning around.  “Maybe it’s waiting on you.  Maybe it needs you to make the next move.”

Steve swallows and nods.  “Maybe I’m not ready.”

Danny looks back at him and smiles.  “I know.”

“Maybe,” Steve says as Danny starts to walk away again.  “Maybe I’m almost there though, Danny.”

Danny laughs and looks back at him.  “We’ll see.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought i was done after part 1, but turns out I wasn't. NOW I am.

It becomes a habit, starting off like it’s an inside joke.  Now every time Steve’s feeling tense and too in his head and stressed out, there’s Danny, poking him in the forehead.  Not massaging, no gentle caresses.  A hard, pointed poke.

“Ow, Danny,” Steve says.

“Then stop it.”

Steve throws his hands out.  “Stop _what?_ ”

Danny’s poking finger raises and points at Steve’s general forehead area.  “That, this.... This punched together, pinched, _line_ you get!”

And he’s not subtle about it. He’s not pulling Steve aside for it, he’s doing it right out in the open for everyone to see.  The next thing Steve knows, Kono’s doing it.

“Sorry, boss, had to be done.”

Steve blinks, and swats at Kono’s hand.  “The hell are you doing?”

Kono pokes him in the forehead again, grins, and shrugs.  “Works when Danny does it.”

Danny grins in pride and high fives Kono when she passes him, and then winks at Steve.  “Can’t argue with the truth, buddy.”

Chin doesn’t do it but he does curve his hand over Steve’s shoulder, pull him close enough to speak in his ear, and say “Warning for inevitable poke, Steve.  You’re doing it again.”

Lou doesn’t poke.  He smacks Steve in the middle of the forehead with the palm of his great big hand.

The thing is, Steve hadn’t realized just how often, how nearly constantly he was stressing out --  brooding as Danny called it -- until he started getting poked or smacked in the forehead by the majority of his team.  On a Tuesday he counts four pokes by Danny, three from Kono, and one overly enthusiastic smack by Lou followed up by the entire team cracking up laughing.  Steve even joins in.

That’s eight in one day, and that’s not taking into account the six times Chin warned him.

It happens at work, it happens at Sidestreets, it happens at Rum Fire, it happens in the car, and it happens in his backyard when he’s having a barbeque.

“I wasn’t,” Steve says, backing up before Kono’s finger can make contact.  Kono’s hurt about ten times worse than Danny’s did.  She’s got an inordinately powerful poker it seems.  “I’m flipping the burgers!”

Kono’s finger wags at him.  “You were, but I’ll let this one slide.  This _one_.  And next time?”  She walks backwards, still pointing her finger in the air as she squats back down into her spot next to Charlie, building a sandcastle.  “Next time you won’t even see it coming.”

“Those damn Hawaiians,” Danny says, coming up from behind and startling Steve.  “Ninjas, all of ‘em.”

Later that evening, Danny teaches Charlie the new trick.  “You see that expression on your Uncle Steve’s face?  How his eyebrows go together and he looks like he’s concentrating really hard on a math problem?  That’s when it’s your job to go over there and bap him on that spot so he can stop doing it.  You’re doing him a favor, really.”  And Charlie does, with a seriousness that’s so very Danny Steve feels rocked back by it, but instead of poking he kisses Steve on the forehead.  It works better than any poke or smack ever did.

One day though, after a particularly hard case, Danny comes in his office, closes the door, and pushes Steve back down into his chair.  Swivelling him around he puts his hands on Steve’s shoulders and begins slowly working the knots out.  Steve closes his eyes and lets him.

“What happened to the poke,” he asks when Danny’s done, feeling sleepy and maybe a little high almost.  Danny gives really good, thorough massages.  Steve kind of wants to sign up for one every day.  “Not that I’m complaining, I’ll take this over a poke any day.”

“This wasn’t you being inside your own head worrying and brooding over…” Danny pauses, his thumbs lightly, absently, brushing up and down Steve’s neck.  “Over I don’t even know, Steven, you won’t tell me what’s bothering you, but this wasn’t that.  This was a case, and it got to all of us.  So this doesn’t get a poke. This gets this.”

“It’s not,” Steve says, turning when Danny’s hands fall from his neck to look up at him.  “It’s not like it’s any one thing in particular, Danny.  I usually don’t even know I’m doing it until--”

“One of us pokes you,” Danny says, smiling softly as he reaches forward and frames Steve’s head with his hands again, smoothing his thumbs gently but firmly over his eyebrows.  “I know babe.  That kinda makes it worse.”

“This isn’t fair, you know,” Steve says, smiling up at him.   “You turning the team on me.”

“Turning the team on you,” Danny says, rolling his eye as he picks a peppermint out of Steve’s largely ignored candy jar.  Crinkling the paper he chucks it at Steve’s head, and then turns to leave the office.  “When ya gonna learn, big guy?  Every poke and smack means I love you.”

When it starts to spread, that’s when Steve gets that that’s exactly what’s happening.  That every tap, poke, smack, or whispered aside really is a version of I love you, because it stops being just him that’s being poked.  

Kono snaps her fingers in front of Danny’s face when he’s looking at the all too awful crime scene photos of a dead seven year old girl, and then pokes him in the forehead and follows it up by wiping her hand over the table and swiping them off the screen.  “Let’s look at something else for a while, huh?  Maybe we’ve already found everything we’re gonna find with those.”  

Danny rubs his forehead and meets Kono’s eyes and then reaches over to squeeze her arm and nods, smiling softly.  That’s when it clicks for Steve.

Each jab, every tap, means I got you.  It means you’re not alone.  It means let me take over for a while.  It means you’re taking on too much.  Let me take the burden.  I’ll do whatever I can to make this easier for you.  Let me help you.

So the next time Lou smacks him in the forehead he grins and says thanks.  When Kono pokes him he kisses her on the cheek and pats her on the shoulder.  When Chin’s hand curves over his shoulder he winks at him and nods his head, clears his throat, and shifts.

And when Danny does it one evening after he brings Steve home because they’d carpooled, Steve reaches out and grabs Danny’s hand to stop him from leaving.  “Hey, Danny.”

Danny looks at him him.  “Yes, Steven?”

“Thanks,” he says, and then pulls him forward, puts a hand on the side of Danny’s face, and kisses him.

“You can say thanks with words you know,” Danny says, but he grins that heart stopping grin at him and Steve grins back.

“Nah,” he says, shrugging and pulling Danny closer, his other hand coming up to the other side of Danny’s face.  “I’m a doer, not a sayer.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr here under [@lovethesnark](http://lovethesnark.tumblr.com). 
> 
> Fanfiction Website  
> MOST of my fic is not on AO3, though all of my H5O and beyond is as AO3 didn't exist yet and it was too much to archive. It can be found on my website at [LoveTheSnark.com](http://www.lovethesnark.com).


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